All of a sudden you calm down. You read books. You go to bed by 11 and wake up by 6. You become obsessed with cleaning. You start cooking with recipes in hand. You really like fluffy scrambled eggs. You go to work early. You read books related to work. You read fiction. You spend as much time as you can with one of your best friends leaving in less than 16 days. Your conversations largely revolve around his girlfriend that you both love. You live vicariously through that love. You like living vicariously, because it seems 10x more real than love on your own. Your friend says you love everyone and no one. You're in love with love. Then you get bored, and you become cold, and you start to like cats. You almost, almost took one in, and if it weren't for the fact that she meowed all night, you really may have just done it. You called her Minako. Even the office cat likes you more, because she could tell that you changed. The office cat's name, Xiao Bi, is homonym for "Little Cunt." You're still not sure whether it's a boy or girl, but you can stroke it now with all the calm in the world. Your friend calls you "keener" because you're waking up early, and eating healthy, and cleaning, and biking, and turning in work on time. He's a sloth on the other hand, not the deadly sin, but the one that clings onto trees. He looks like Buddha and occasionally the Madonna. You tell him he has a face that needs to be drawn by a 17th century painter. A large expressive face with big water pools for eyes and a half-smile that could rival Mona Lisa's secrets. His description made you feel old, like you've given up on being young. Instead you're too busy honing yourself, burying your head in books, loving in a different way.
Your body loves you. You have no idea how you sustained a lifestyle where you drank until 4AM and woke up at 9AM to do more work. You kind of miss it, but you kind of don't.